Page 34 of The Mob and his Messenger

And all the while his length is hammering into me, so passionately now the whole bed seems to be moving.

The room fills with my moans and his grunts and the glorious sound of our bodies giving themselves to each other.

I let go of my breasts and clasp his face in my hands, both of us gazing at each other as we seem to become one, a writhing beast squirming and gyrating together. The beast with two backs. I can finally make sense of that quote now.

We’re a single primal animal, engaged in some carnal dance as he slides his hands down my back and braces me, pulling me so that we’re both almost sitting up together, pumping in unison, the pleasure exploding and tearing a heavenly path through my womb and my clit and my lips and my soaked stretched hole.

“Do it,” he urges deeply. “Now, now.”

“I— I.”

I throw my head back and let out a singing moan as the orgasm flows through me. I collapse against Dom and feel his teeth on my neck, biting softly, and then a little harder as his own release pushes closer.

We writhe and moan together, our bodies sweaty and hot and close. He pulls me to him so that my breasts are flat against his muscled chest and my legs dangle off the edge of the bed, my ass cheeks flattening against his thighs so that I’m sitting on him.

But even with me now on top, he leads the pumping, reaching up and grabbing my breasts, squeezing them so hard they sting with pleasure.

My thighs tremble and quiver and I feel my cream squirting all down the length of him.

But embarrassment has no home here, and our eyes meet and I smile, and he smirks as he slides his hand into my cream and rubs some on my breasts.

And then he moves it higher and makes me taste my own juices. I grab his fingers and suck them clean, keeping my eyes wide and fixed on him the whole time.

That’s enough to send his own pleasure into overdrive, his whole body seizing, his conqueror’s expression distorting as his seed shoots hotly up his cock and inside of me.

I collapse against him and he grabs my ass cheeks, palming them roughly and possessively, leaning up and whispering in my ear.

“I’m putting a child in you tonight,” he snarls. “Can you feel it, my perfect Firecracker? I’m putting a baby in your womb. Right. Now.”

I sigh and shiver as my own orgasm reaches its end, and Dom’s just begins, both of us hanging in joint pleasure as a thousand candles illuminate our union.Chapter NineteenDallasI wake with Poppet’s tongue on my cheek and a smile on my face, a smile that feels like it could break my face, it beams so brightly. I tickle her under the chin and roll over, hugging her close to me, breathing in the scent of Dom’s cologne.

He’s already left for work.

I lie on my back and raise my arm, the signal for Poppet to crawl into the nook. She does this with a little harrumph, as though to let me know pretty soon I’ll have to take her to the garden … but for now, she’s content to lie here.

I close my eyes and think about last night, the hotel suite, lying side by side in each other’s arms, naked, coated in sweat.

When I asked Dom if we could come home – lame as it may be, I was starting to miss Poppet – he said yes without complaint and so we flew through the night, Dom in the pilot’s seat. I sat beside him as we soared over the countryside, looking across at him, bathed in the star and moonlight, looking glorious and right.

“So there are complications,” I whisper, nuzzling my face in Poppet’s fur. “Maybe he’s not what you’d call conventional, hmm? What with the you-know-what.”

The killing.

But he did that in self-defense, pretty much.

Or, if I want to be finicky about it, not exactly self-defense but definitely in the most unusual circumstances. It’s not like he went out Patty-style looking for somebody to hunt for sport.

When I look deep inside myself, ask if Dom is a good man, that tragedy in his childhood doesn’t change my opinion.

Yes.

He’s the best man I’ve ever met and if that makes me crazy, then fine, I’m freaking crazy, but there’s a connection between me and Dom that goes beyond sanity.

It’s primal, it’s us.

What about Dad?

I open my eyes and sit up, letting my hand move through Poppet’s fur. She cocks her head up at me, her bright eyes like lasers, reading me.

Something’s different, Mommy, I imagine her saying. Shall I guess what it is?

Even if nerves swirl inside of me at the thought of what Dad will say when he finds out, I know I’m too far gone into our closeness now to stop it. I know that even if I wanted to – and I don’t, not even slightly – I’d be powerless to resist this life-changing intimacy that’s beginning to dominate us.

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